


Liars and Tricksters

by dirtbagtrashcat



Series: The Lies We Tell [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro contains multitudes, Arrogant Akechi Goro, Deceivers, Imagine his surprise at Akira's whole honkin menagerie of Personas, Loki is Akechi's deep dark secret, M/M, Multiple Personas, Self-loathing Akechi Goro, Spoilers for Vanilla P5, Spoilers through Sae's dungeon, Trickster - Freeform, Tricksters, Two-faced Akechi Goro, Wild Card, liars, what can i say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23656414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dirtbagtrashcat/pseuds/dirtbagtrashcat
Summary: Loki is Akechi's dirty little secret: incontrovertible evidence of his innate duplicitousness. After all, only a true villain could possess more than one "true self."...Imagine his surprise when he learns that Akira has a whole jostling *menagerie* of Personas, each one uglier than the last.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: The Lies We Tell [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703317
Comments: 20
Kudos: 522





	Liars and Tricksters

Akechi could wield multiple personas, because Akechi was a liar — a hollow man devoid of any true self, with only cobwebs and ashes where his heart should be. He had always known it to be true. Yet here was Akira — sweet, docile, arguably  _ bovine _ Akira — flipping between Neko Shogun and Red Rider as though it were nothing to be ashamed of. 

The first time he saw it, Akechi choked on his spit. 

Makoto shot him a sharp look. “Are you okay?”

“Of course!” he said pleasantly, offering her a guileless smile. Akechi had just discovered the Metaverse a month ago, after all. How would he know what was and wasn’t normal? He was startled, but not startled enough to give himself away. Akechi was endlessly patient. He could wait. 

Ever since he spied them outside of Okumura’s headquarters and proved, at last, that Akira’s little gang of misfits were truly Phantom Thieves, Akechi had been dying to see Akira’s Persona. Akira was, after all, rather a difficult read: enigmatic and straightforward in equal measure, with eyes like twin mirrors and a smile that gave nothing away. Seeing his Persona was a rare glimpse into the depths of Akira’s heart. 

Most of the team’s Personas were -- rather uninspired. Takamaki’s heart wore the guise of a busty dancer, trailing spineless, weak-willed men after her. Sakamoto’s was a pirate king, all wild grins and swagger. Nijima-san’s persona actually impressed him -- he’d never seen a Persona manifest as a  _ vehicle _ before, much less one with so much rebellious fire. If he weren’t so much stronger and smarter and deadlier than the rest of the thieves, he might actually feel jealous. 

Still, several fights into the day, Akechi still hadn’t seen Joker’s heart. Imagine his surprise when Akira, with a languid twist of his wrist, called forth  _ Girimehkala _ \-- an underdressed, overstuffed elephant with slick, rubbery skin and a single leering eye. The shock was enough to crack through Akechi’s composure. For a brief, dizzying moment he gaped at the thing, slack-jawed with surprise.  _ This _ was Akira’s true self? The truth that dwelled in Akira’s heart was an oversized gourd in a patterned loincloth? 

Girimehkala repelled physical damage. That much, at least, felt very Akira, but otherwise, the mismatch was dizzying. Akira was -- not  _ handsome _ , exactly, not like Akechi was handsome, but -- there was a certain elegance to his stride; a certain glint in his eye. The boy had  _ subtlety _ , for heaven’s sake, and enough charm that Akechi didn’t mind being seen keeping his company. How on earth had all that charisma given rise to Dumbo’s uglier stepfather?

Their opponents -- a pair of Unicorns; no real threat -- whickered their disquiet as Akira raised one hand. What would be his favored element, Akechi wondered? Before today, he’d anticipated an affinity for curse spells. But he’d also expected a graceful, courtly Persona, perhaps in evening dress to match Akira’s suit. With those expectations thoroughly dashed, he had no idea  _ what _ to expect. 

And then:

“Pisaca!” Akira called, and his Persona wavered where it stood, bending the light around it before vanishing altogether. The air shimmered, and then  _ a new Persona took its place _ : a horrible, monstrous thing whose gnashing maw of fangs that slit open its form from its face clear down to its crotch. Two stalked eyes probed the air curiously, twisting and flicking like a cat’s tail. A viscous cord of drool dangled, obscenely, between its legs. 

“What in the  _ world _ ,” Akechi couldn’t help but mutter. Thankfully, his words were lost in the ensuing rabble (“Eiha!” Akira shouted, and pained equine screaming reverberated against the casino walls). Akira possessed two Personas? Akira possessed  _ these _ two Personas?? 

It didn’t make any sense. Akira was -- a fool, certainly, but an honest-seeming fool. But that was impossible. Only an irredeemable liar -- a twisted, hollow, snake-tongued deceiver like Akechi -- could hide  _ two _ rebellious hearts warring within. Was it possible that, deep down, Akira was as broken and empty as he was?

It didn’t make sense.

An hour or so later, Akechi mustered the gumption to ask Makoto about it. 

“Nijima-san,” he said pleasantly. She gave him an uncertain nod. 

“Nijima-san,” he said again, “why is it that Akira can wield multiple personas? I myself have only ever known  _ one _ true self,” he lied, folding his hands officiously. “And if I’m not mistaken, the same is true for the rest of your group. What does it mean for Akira’s heart to possess such hidden depths?” 

“Good question,” Makoto tells him, nodding seriously. “Honestly, even within the group, we’ve not talked  _ nearly _ enough about Akira’s power. But it’s likely because we lack the foundational knowledge that would allow us to truly make sense it. We take it for granted now, but when his power first manifested, even Morgana had never seen anything like it.” 

“Fascinating,” he tells her charmingly. “There is so much we still have to learn about this place, isn’t there? It’s a shame that we won’t have the time to uncover all of its secrets.”

“Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it, Akechi-kun?” she shoots back, with a challenging note in her voice that rather startles him. She’s grown a backbone since Akechi first bumped into her at Shujin. “But you’re right. As it stands, there’s much we still don’t know.” 

“Right,” he agrees smoothly. He’s desperate to ask more, like: did she watch Akira awaken to any of these  _ extra _ Personas? And: what circumstances had wrenched such a dreadful horror as  _ Pisaca _ out of him? And: did it look like it hurt? 

When Akechi first called Robin, it hurt rather distantly, in a pleasurable sort of way. But when Loki clawed its way out of him, Akechi thought the pain might actually kill him. Awakening to a second Persona was like being torn apart -- like his physical body was nothing but a dry, brittle shell that Loki was moulting off. Did Akira hurt like that every time he called a new Persona? Was each new awakening a fresh trauma? 

Still, he didn’t want to push his luck. It would be --  _ inconvenient _ , if Makoto were to conclude that Akechi knew too much to be truly new to this. He could take care of it, of course, but it would get rather messy. Akechi preferred to keep his hands clean, when he could. 

Later that same day, Akechi was surprised ( _ surprised _ , thrice in one day! A new record) to learn that Akira  _ didn’t _ awaken to his Personas -- not in the traditional sense, anyway. 

They were fighting a couple of Valkyries. It should have been a rather bothersome fight, since Valkyries had no weaknesses, but Akira had learned some sort of trick with his gun which seemed to remedy this issue. The team had the horsewomen on their knees. Akechi flexed his fingers, readying himself for the All-Out Attack, and waited for Joker to give the signal. 

Instead, Akira held up one hand, signaling the others to stand back. Then he strode forward. 

“Lend me your power,” he said commandingly, to the closer of the riders. She looked up at him appraisingly. 

“You assume I’ve been defeated,” she said, raising her chin to stare hostilely up at him. “But suppose I’m only faking, hmm? Suppose I should leap up and tear your pretty head from your shoulders? What color blood would pour out?” 

Akechi gaped at her. What sort of a question was that? What was the point of all this, anyway?

Akira gave the shadow an appraising squint. A moment passed, and then he raised his chin, too. 

“Red, of course,” he told her seriously, with a cocky glint in his eye that wasn’t there a moment ago. “What about yours?” 

“Are you  _ threatening _ me?” she asked, a kind of delight rising behind the aggression in her tone. “I would do the same, in your shoes! Ah, but -- suppose I were human, like you? Then you’d be committing a  _ crime _ , now, wouldn’t you?” 

Looming over the conquered Valkyrie, Akira was transformed. He  _ sneered _ down at her, radiating confidence, utterly unafraid. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, unashamed. “I guess I would.” 

The Valkyrie loved that.

“Ohh, that’s just what I would say!” she simpered, her own cocky smile reflecting Akira’s own. “I think that we -- hey, that’s  _ right _ ,” she interjected abruptly. “I’m not really a shadow! I came from the sea of human souls!” 

She rose back to her feet. Akechi flinched, waiting for her to strike. Instead, she stretched out both hands toward Akira.

“You can call me Valkyrie,” she said proudly, in a voice that was all brass and trumpets. “From now on, I’m you, and you’re me!” 

Then Joker’s mask glowed, and his assailant  _ evaporated _ . When Joker turned back toward the party, he was different: radiant; proud; resplendent.

“What,” Akechi sputtered. “You --  _ absorb _ them?” 

Akira looked at him, humor softening the hard, proud lines of his face. 

“You could call it that,” he said coolly, the challenge in his tone a perfect match for the Valkyrie’s hostile gaze. 

Akechi didn’t know  _ what _ to think. Robin and Loki came from the depths of his heart: the inner child who played at being a hero, and the murderous intent he’d long given up on repressing. He’d assumed that  _ everyone _ ’s Personas came from the heart. What did it mean that Akira took his in from the outside world? That he -- reflected them, and then  _ tamed _ them, as though hearts were some sort of trophy you could win? 

As time went on, Akechi began to notice the ways that Akira’s Personas changed him. When he wielded Girimehkala, he was wry and gregarious, quick to laugh and to charge into a fight. When he fought alongside Pisaca he was unsettling and hollow-eyed, with a vacant, hungry expression and a proclivity to All-Out Attack fallen enemies instead of negotiating. When he called on Unicorn, he shone with pure, earnest concern for his comrades; this Akira was likeliest to pass out homemade curry, and to negotiate a peaceful resolution to their encounters. Did Akechi’s body language change, too, when Loki tore violently out of him? He’d never paid himself enough attention to know. 

Akechi did his best to push the question to the back of his mind, but every day, it rose to the surface again. Akira shared Akechi’s gift. But did that prove Akira was evil, or did it prove that Akechi  _ wasn’t _ ? The former was hard to believe; the latter, impossible. But that left Akechi with no viable theories at all. 

He would just have to hear it from the horse’s mouth. 

He asked Akira to meet him at the jazz club. Akira showed up right on time, like he always did. Akira could never resist Akechi’s invitations. It was really rather pathetic of him.

“Akira,” he said to the boy lounging gracefully beside him, when he was sure that the leader of the Phantom Thieves was feeling too relaxed to commit the question to memory. “Allow me a little philosophical inquiry, will you?” 

“Anything,” Akira agreed easily. Akechi looked away, his eyes narrowing. Before he’d seen Akira flip between a whole damned  _ Rolodex _ of Personas, he would have taken that at face value. Now, though, he’d seen the multitudes that roiled under that quiet facade. Now he didn’t know  _ what _ to believe.

“Morgana tells us that one’s Persona is the truth of one’s heart,” Akechi went on, as pleasant as before. “Robin is, shall we say, my rather  _ old-fashioned _ sense of justice; just as Captain Kidd represents Ryuji’s -- ah -- forgive me for saying as much, but -- his somewhat childish, rather  _ barbaric  _ concept of rebellion. What, then, do your Personas say about you? How can the truth of your heart contain such multitudes?” 

Akira was giving him that look again: that dark, unreadable, almost animal attention. Akechi felt his cheeks grow hot. 

“I’ve wondered the same myself,” Akira said quietly, his gaze shifting downward slightly to take in Akechi’s flushed cheeks. The corners of his mouth pricked upward into a barely-discernable smile. “To be honest, I used to worry that it meant I was -- I don’t know. Dishonest, somehow.” 

Akechi forced himself to breathe normally. 

“And now?” he asked lightly. Akira’s dark gaze lingered on his face before dipping downward toward his throat, or maybe his lips. As ever, the expression conveyed neither contempt nor admiration. Akechi could only see open curiosity, coupled with a simple, feline focus. 

“Now I think it makes sense,” Akira answered, at last. “I don’t understand the logic of it, not fundamentally, but... People tell me that I’m a good listener.  _ You’ve _ told me as much,” he added, with a note of humor. “When they speak to me, they find themselves saying more than they normally would.” He hesitated before pressing on, as though deliberating over whether or not it were safe to share. Then, impulsively: “I think it’s because I’m -- a mirror, sort of.” 

“A mirror?” The words came out too shrill. Akechi cursed his desperation and tried again. “What do you mean by that, exactly?” 

Akira shrugged.

“I never understood why people get so much out of talking to me,” he replied, somewhat evasively. “I don’t give them advice or anything. I’m just -- a surface for them to bounce off of. I help them to understand what they really want, I think, because I reflect it back at them.” 

“You -- emulate them? Imitate them?” 

“Not exactly,” Akira disagreed, with another diffident shrug. 

Akechi considered his options, and decided to push his luck. 

“And you don’t worry anymore? That it means you’re -- duplicitous, as you say?” 

Akira turned his face away, as though losing interest.

“Personas can’t lie,” he said. “Why should I deny them? If it means that some days I’m a ravening maw and other days I’m a fluffy little kitten, what of it? Everyone has different sides to them.” 

Akechi’s lips twitched. 

“You’re certainly fluffy,” he conceded, resisting the inexplicable urge to run his fingers through Akira’s thick tangle of hair. These fits of madness seem to be a symptom of Akira’s presence. “Well, thank you for humoring me, Akira. You know how I value your input.” 

“Mmh.” 

Ever since Loki clawed its way out of him, leaving Akechi panting and tearful and trembling bonelessly behind it, Akechi knew that he would never be a hero. Liars and murderers couldn’t be heroes, no matter how pathetically they may once have wished to be. His second awakening had proven it, beyond any shadow of a doubt. 

And yet, somehow, Akira had deluded himself into thinking that he  _ was _ a hero -- that his villainous personas could coexist with his heroic ones without tearing him apart; and that changing his shape to reflect those around him was something  _ noble _ , and not an affront to basic integrity. 

_ What a fool _ , Akechi thought, with contempt, as he paced home. He supposed that he was lucky to have met Akira now, and not a few years ago, before he’d found such ironclad evidence of his own incontrovertible wickedness. Back then, before Akechi knew better, perhaps Joker could still have convinced him that his existence was not a blight on this earth. Young and stupid as Akechi was back then, perhaps Akira could have fooled him into believing that there was still any hope left for him. 

**Author's Note:**

> God, I fucking love Akechi. I have such a weakness for liars, and for broken characters whose contempt for others is outpaced only by their contempt for themself. In P5R I just finally got to Sae's dungeon, so you can expect a lot of Akechi content in the coming days heh. 
> 
> As ever, feedback is always welcome!


End file.
